


GoTC: My Past is My Own, Buck

by farad



Series: GoTC (Originally titled "Fluctuations") [5]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: "Ghosts of the Confederacy" series, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-07
Updated: 2010-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>moving the three of them into "One Day Out West"</p>
            </blockquote>





	GoTC: My Past is My Own, Buck

**Author's Note:**

> part of the series that brings Chris, Buck, and Vin together.
> 
> Thanks for my betas, Charlotte, Dail, and all the wonderful people at DnF who let me play.

  
_CHRIS:  
My past is my own, Buck. It's not somethin' you can use for conversation.  
BUCK:  
She asked.  
CHRIS:  
Guess you didn't hear me.  
BUCK:  
( groans ) I hear ya, and I'm sorry, Chris but what the hell am I supposed to say when people ask?  
CHRIS:  
Nothin'._

From "One Day Out West"  
(transcript taken from Zennerd's excellent website: http://www.geocities.com/zennerd/oneday1.html)

"You ain't going."

Buck blinked his eyes open, forcing himself out of the post-climax lethargy, and the drowse that had started as his breathing had slowed.

He wasn't surprised to find Chris standing at the dresser, drinking from the whiskey bottle, scratching at his come-splattered belly.

"What?" he said, but it came out more a rumble than a word, his voice rusty.

Chris took another deep pull on the bottle, then held it out toward Buck as he swallowed.

Buck took it, but he kept his eyes on his lover even as he drank, listening to the hard tone in the flat voice.

"In the morning," Chris said. "You ain't coming." He twisted, reaching for the lamp and turning it down, the flame dying.

Buck managed not to choke on the alcohol sliding down his throat, but he did swallow a little faster than necessary and almost coughed. Chris took the bottle from his hand, setting it on the table beside the bed before crawling over Buck to get back under the covers – the night was a little chilly, a cold wind blowing in. Would probably rain tomorrow, making the ride to Tascosa –

"What the hell do you mean?" Buck asked when he found his voice. "Don't see how that's your – "

"You're still hurting – don't lie about it, it's clear in your eyes, Buck. That wound's still healing and you ain't up for a long ride, and I ain't up to losing you because of it."

Buck stared at the other man, confused. "What the hell does that mean?"

And for the first time in all the years they'd known each other, in all the hell they'd been through, Chris Larabee blushed.

Buck just stared, feeling a strange wonder.

It fell apart when Chris answered roughly, "Means you ain't ridin' with us in the morning."

He felt the stir of his anger again, but it was a little more tempered now. "I thank you for worrying, Chris, but I think I'm old enough to make my own decisions. And I like Vin. I don't want to – "

"I know you do. So how you gonna take it if this don't work and I end up coming back alone?" He was settling back into the pillow, yawning even as he closed his eyes.

"If I go, you ain't coming back alone," Buck said quietly, the meaning clear. He rolled to his side so that he was looking down into Chris' face. He'd left one lamp burning, turned low on the table beside his side of the bed, and shadows cast him in deep lines. His eyes were closed, his lips set in a hard line.

"If I have to get him out of there, I don't want you in the line of fire," Chris said quietly and without opening his eyes. "And if something else goes wrong, you'll be coming to get us both out."

Buck snorted. "That's a sorry-ass plan, Chris." And it was. 'Cause Buck knew that it was bullshit, and he knew that Chris did, too. If Vin ended up hanging, Chris would be dead. He wouldn't come back alone, it wasn't his nature.

Chris almost smiled, the corners of his lips twitching, but he didn't open his eyes. "Only one I got. Other than letting him go alone."

"Could hog-tie him and not let him leave at all," Buck mused. Until he saw the smile actually develop on Chris' face and knew what image his lover had in his head. "I didn't mean that," he groused. "Don't think Vin would take too kindly to being trussed up. Reckon it's happened to him before and it wasn't nearly as fun as what you're thinking."

He sighed, letting his arm fall away so that he was on his own pillow, thinking about sleep. The sword slash itched a little under the bandage, and he shifted, trying to ease it without touching.

"You seem to know him pretty well," Chris said quietly, just pulling Buck back from the edge. "You heard something?"

Buck opened his eyes so he could see the other man. "Didn't have to. It's there in his eyes, Chris – you seen it, that fear. That first time, in this very bed – don't you remember?"

Chris' head rolled on the pillow, turning slightly toward to Buck before forcing his eyes open. "Saw some fear there, lotta anger aimed at me – probably deserved. I wasn't real gentle with him."

"No, you weren't," Buck agreed but there was no heat in the words. They were past that. "But you weren't as bad as others have been, and that's what he sees in you."

Chris watched him, those green eyes tracking in the soft light. "What do you see in me, Buck? Why do you stay?"

Buck blinked, startled. "What do I – Chris, you feeling all right?" It was almost worrisome, this sudden concern on Chris' part. This sudden – affection.

No, he caught himself, he'd always known Chris cared. It was this sudden demonstration of it, these words.

Chris was looking at him, something soft in his eyes. Buck recognized the look – it was one he hadn't seen in a while though, not since Sarah had –

"Buck?"

He smiled, couldn't help himself, then moved the short distance to find Chris' lips. "I stay because you're the best thing in my life." He didn't have to see Chris to know he was blushing, he could feel the heat under the layer of scruff as they kissed.

Neither of them blew out the light, so when Buck woke to the noise of someone moving around the room, he could see Chris pulling on his gunbelt. He blinked, knowing that the sun wasn't up yet, not all the way. The room was too dark and the chill just enough to make him want to roll over and go back to sleep.

But he fought it, knowing that Chris was thinking of sneaking out to meet Vin, as if his words from the night before - hours ago – had settled the matter.

"What time y'all planning on leaving?" he said, struggling to push back the bedclothes.

Chris started, almost dropping the boot he was holding, and Buck couldn't help but chuckle.

"Don't know, but don't you worry about it," Chris countered, fumbling his way into the boot. "Go back to sleep. If we're not back in a couple of weeks, come hunting."

Buck finally managed to get free of the cloth and pulled his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. "My ass. Gimme about ten minutes – "

"You're not going, Buck. I thought I made that clear – "

"You said a bunch a shit, none of which matters on this point." He scratched at his belly even as he forced himself to stand. "Besides, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be going either, 'cause that boy would be long gone."

Chris stilled then, looking up from where he was crouched over, his eyes shiny in the dimness. "You jealous?"

Buck turned to look at him, again surprised by Chris. But before he stopped to think about an answer, his mouth jumped in ahead of him and said, "Should I be?"

And there is was, open between them.

Chris straightened slowly, pressing his foot into his boot unconsciously, while Buck shivered slightly, looking around for his clothes. They were on the nearby chair, even his longjohns which he figured Chris had probably picked up while he was looking for his own clothes.

He was pulling himself into the sleeves when Chris finally said, "What we got – well, I wasn't bullshitting last night, Buck. Don't want nothing to happen to you. Don't want . . ." He paused, took a deep breath that Buck heard across the room. "You're important to me, too important to lose. We ain't never put no name on . . ." He sighed then, waving his hand around, and Buck almost smiled.

Instead, he reached for his pants, slipping them on as he said, "No, we ain't, and don't reckon we need to now. We both know what it is."

He couldn't help himself, chuckling at the look of relief that settled on the other man's face. But as his amusement died away, he asked softly, and with some fear, "This thing with no name ain't over, is it? You planning on leaving me behind to take up with Vin?"

Chris looked up from where he was setting his coat on his shoulders, meeting Buck's gaze straight on. "No." His voice was dry and flat, the sound one that Buck had learned over the years meant that Chris was as scared of the question as he had been.

He nodded, but before he could say anything, Chris went on. "I like him – maybe too much. I want . . ." He swallowed, but didn't look away as he continued, "I want . . I want to get to know him better."

Buck stared at him. "You done fucked him – how much more is there to know about him?"

But even as he asked the question, he knew the answer, remembered the questions last night, about Vin and his past experiences with men, about what Buck saw in Chris. Remembered Chris' 'plan' and the lie behind it.

For half an instant, he saw something in Chris' face, a flash of something in his eyes – something that cut deep. Chris was protecting Vin – but he was doing something else, too; he was using him, making him the reason for the distance between them. For the fear Chris had of losing Buck.

That idea, though, was distant, causing a hurt that Buck wasn't ready to see. Instead, he latched on to the other, the protecting. The wanting.

Buck rarely felt jealousy, but right now, watching Chris watching him, seeing that strange look on the other man's face, he wanted to find Vin Tanner and shoot him dead.

"Leave him be," Chris said, his voice low and dangerous. "Ain't his fault – hell, he don't even know."

"I shoulda let him leave," Buck shot back, the jealousy finding its companion anger. But the anger wasn't all about Vin; it was about what Chris was doing because of Vin. For the first time, Chris was seeing what was right in front of him, what had been there longer than either one of them knew. And Chris was running from it. "I should never have gone into that livery yesterday – what the hell was I doing?"

"You leave him outta this," Chris repeated. "I ain't ending anything between us – hell, I shared him with you that first time, and ain't shot ya for taking him yesterday – taking him, Buck! You told me yourself he let you fuck him – "

"Reckon he knew more'n I did," Buck snarled, jerking on his shirt. "He seemed to know he should leave – should run before he got hurt. Smart boy. I shoulda done that a long time ago, too. At least he had enough sense to run before you did."

He looked down, searching for his boots. He was angry enough that he didn't care about the noise he was making as he stomped into them –

"Buck." Chris's hand closed on one of his upper arms, hard and sharp. "Don't – "

"I ain't gonna hurt your precious little fuck-boy," he snapped, wrenching himself free. "I won't say the same about you though." He whirled, jerking his jacket off one of the nearby chairs, then grabbing up his gunbelt and whipping it up his arm.

"Stop it!" Chris hissed, trying to grab for him again, trying to slow him down. "Ain't no need in acting this way – I ain't – "

"You're taking off with him and leaving me here," Buck shot back. "Telling me I ain't welcome to go along 'cause you want to 'get to know him better' – now, what we got might not have a name, but I can tell you this – what you're doing does have a name and it's called bullshit."

Chris caught him then, pushing him hard back against the wall and pinning him long enough so say, "I didn't lie to you, last night or before. I need you – I ain't leaving you behind. I just – I need – I – "

"You need him. And you want him. Fine, Chris, you go right on ahead – go on and get to know him, and go right on telling yourself that that's what this is all about. And when you get tired of him, or, more likely, when he gets tired of your sorry ass moods and temper, you come on back here, and if you're damned lucky, maybe I'll still be here."

He pushed then, catching Chris unprepared and driving him back long enough to get to the door. And out.

His anger pulsed, driving him down the stairs and out the door, into the darkened street. Dawn was just breaking, the sky lightening slowly and softly, storm clouds gathering.

He was so angry that all he could do at first was pace, walking up and down the street as the sun rose slowly, thinking about the contradictions of Chris' words from last night and this morning. Thinking of being set aside for that slip of a man with the big blue eyes.

But like jealousy, anger wasn't something that found a home in him, and by the time others were beginning to move around on the boardwalk – Mrs. Holcombe opening up the restaurant for breakfast, Mrs. Travis making her way to her newspaper office, he had drifted into a sort of oddly detached sadness.

It was then that he saw the familiar form coming out of the boarding house, saddle bag over one shoulder, the rifle cut down to be worn in a long holster strapped to one leg. His anger pricked again, but not enough to control him.

As Chris had said, it wasn't Vin's fault. Whatever was happening between those two wasn't something Vin was trying to encourage.

Whatever was happening between all three of them. Because, Buck knew, it was happening between all three of them. Some part of that jealousy he had felt just now was for Vin, too. He knew that had Chris been riding out with anybody else, he'd have been just as content to wait with Vin.

Or to leave Chris behind for a while and ride on with Vin himself, try to talk the younger man out of this foolishness. Get to know Vin a little better himself, then come back for Chris.

He didn't sneak up on Vin – couldn't; knowing what he did now about Vin's past – the bounty on his head – he understood a lot more about why he was so jumpy. So careful.

And so innocent, Buck thought, watching Vin grin at him as he neared.

Wasn't his fault, he told himself, wasn't Vin's fault. All Chris, all Buck himself. Not Vin.

"You're up awful ear – Hey!" Vin ducked the wide roundhouse Buck threw, so that Buck's fist passed easily through the air to collide harmlessly with the wall.

Buck stood, breathing hard, leaning on the fist that was pressed hard now against the rough wood planking. Vin came up several feet away, and Buck could feel the weight of his gaze, the confusion.

"Buck?" he asked quietly.

Buck sighed, shaking his head and pulling his fist back, forcing it to flex. "You got me, boy," he said, as softly as Vin. "Thought I knew him, but you slipped right past my guard on that one."

Peripherally, he saw Vin shift, watched him debate, his blue eyes catching in the random rays of sunlight as he looked around to see who had seen. "I'm sorry if I done something."

Buck sighed again, hating the way he was feeling. He turned, shaking his hand now, even sorrier when Vin took another step back, out of any reach. "You ain't done nothing. I . . ."

"You and Chris?" he said, with a perception that startled Buck – but only for a second. Vin nodded though, catching the brief surprise Buck knew he must've shown. "Worried about that. Knew I shoulda – "

"Wouldn't have mattered," Buck held up his hand, waving off Vin's words. "'Spect the damage was done by the time we reached that Seminole village." He waved it again when Vin started to speak. "Don't matter, what's done is done. I . . . I only ask that when y'all get done in Tascosa, would you, please . . ."

He stopped, unsure that he could ask. Unsure of what he was asking. Unsure that he had anything to ask.

"He'll come back to you," Vin said softly, and he took that step back, closer to Buck. "No matter how it comes out, he'll come back – you're his home."

Just like that. Buck shook his head, but said, "He wants to get to know you better. Don't sound like – "

Vin blushed, the tinting visible even in the indirect light, but he interrupted. "He knows all he's ever gonna know. Ain't me he wants to find out about, it's hisself."

The idea – coupled with the fact that it came so easily from someone who had only known Chris for days – caught Buck completely unprepared. He stared, knew he was staring, gaping probably.

Vin grinned a little at him and said, "I was thinking 'bout getting my horse ready. Walk with me?"

He didn't really make a conscious choice, just found himself walking along with Vin. Eventually, when the shock – and the reality of those words had worn off a bit, he stammered out, "You really think that . . ."

Vin glanced at him, then said, "He came for you that first day, Buck, without me knowing nothing about you two and what he wanted. If you'd said no, I don't think it woulda gone any farther than the three of us having a drink and talking about what to do with them Seminole. Hell, if you were to say 'no' now, I 'spect that would be the end of it, too – he'd still go with me, 'cause he gave his word and he lives by that, same way I do. But if you think he's going just to get back inside my britches, you're wrong."

Just like that, Vin had put it together, and done it right. Buck shook his head at his own stupidity.

"If I asked you not to let him, would you?" He glanced to Vin as they walked, watching.

He wasn't surprised this time when Vin turned to look at him and slowed. "Yep. If that's what you want. But you know it ain't me yer worried about losing."

This time, though, he was wrong, at least a little. Buck reached out, dropping hand to Vin's shoulder and pleased when this time, even though he tensed, Vin didn't pull away. "Yeah, I am. You're the one stubborn enough to go walking into a noose. And I am worried about that, 'cause I reckon I want ta get ta know you better, too."

Vin chuckled a little, but his eyes were serious. "I ain't aiming to get between you two – "

"I know. Guess I just needed to be reminded." He nodded, then let his arm drop away. "Wish you wouldn't do this – and not just because of riding off with him."

Vin shrugged and turned, starting toward the livery. "Got to. Got ta clear my name, get this off of me. Tired of looking over my shoulder all the time, worrying 'bout who I can talk to and who I can't. Gets old, Buck, makes a man tired."

Buck fell in beside him. "Yeah, guess it does. But you let Chris help you. He'll find a way through it for you – he's good that way. Then y'all get your skinny asses right back here. I don't cotton to having to come bust either of you outta jail."

Vin laughed at the idea, shaking his head. "Won't let it get that far – I'd shoot myself 'for I'd let 'em hang me." He meant it to be funny, but there was a slight tremor in his voice and Buck caught the shudder in his hands before he knotted them to stillness.

They entered the livery, greeting Tiny and several of the others who were there. Buck spent a few minutes with his own horse while Vin started tacking Peso. Didn't take long – Vin was efficient and prepared, and knew his horse well enough to work around the fussing.

But as he tightened the girth, nudging the gelding's belly with his knee to force out the breath the horse was holding, Buck said softly, "Just so's we're clear, I wasn't asking for a promise. Fact is, I know you're right 'bout all of it." And he didn't like the idea that still played at the back of his mind, that Vin might not come out of this. Wasn't fair for him to spend what might be his last days worrying about Buck and Chris – and if these were Vin's last days, damned fool that he was, Buck couldn't ask him not to take advantage of what little comfort he could get. Whatever was or wasn't between him and Chris shouldn't be the last thing on Vin's mind.

Vin grunted as he tied off the cinch, then turned to look at Buck. "You sure? I can live with –"

"Thanks. But I'm sure." He grinned, slapping Vin on the shoulder. "Don't mean I ain't still a mite pissed at Chris though, so don't take personal anything I say to him. He owes me an apology – he owes me some explanations about what's going on in his head. And he owes me the truth."

Vin arched an eyebrow. "Don't you put me in the middle, Buck. You two need to work it out – "

"We will, we will," Buck rushed. "Now – how 'bout we get some breakfast?"

But as they exited the livery, Buck caught sight of Chris standing on the boardwalk, watching them, a frown on his pale face, worry in his eyes.

"Newspaper, gentlemen?" a pleasant female voice called, and before he even thought about it, Buck sauntered over, offering to help Mrs. Travis. He smiled at her, but even as he took the papers from her arms, he caught sight of Vin's hesitation before the younger man continued on, joining Chris.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*

Buck paced again, rubbing at the spot on his neck where the razor had cut. Goddamn Chris – he needed to track him down, punch him out – how dare he –

Because it was easier for Chris to be mad at Buck about talking to Mary Travis than it was to figure out this other thing between them, this unnamed thing that Chris didn't want to put a name to. That Chris didn't want to admit to.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stop moving. The streets were thinning out now, even this side street, running behind the livery. He'd come here looking for Chris, thinking that he and Vin would have made it this far already, to the livery, what with the storm coming. It was getting close to noon, too, the big trial that dumbass JD would be tending to – he sighed. Dumbass kid. Gonna get himself killed, while Chris and Vin were off getting themselves killed. . .

He looked up at the sky as the first drops of rain started, hitting him full in the face.

The first shot made him duck instinctively, but by the time the next few sounded, close together, he placed them – the saloon. The trial. Damned kid.

He started moving, staying close to the buildings and low. Glass shattered, more gunfire – Chris' familiar revolver, more glass now, louder and longer. Horses, then, hooves pounding the ground as they went from standing still to moving fast. A rifle sounded, then a call, indistinct except that it ended with "JD!" and he was moving faster, fear and worry driving him.

The front of the saloon was a shambles, the window shattered, barrels and chairs overturned. Several bodies lay on the road, scattered about, and Vin was dropping his mare's leg back to his side as JD was moving away from the saloon doors, looking okay but scared as he called out for Nathan.

Buck hurried over, not really surprised to hear Chris yelling from inside the saloon to hurry up and get Nathan.

But Nathan was already there, pushing past Vin even as Buck stepped up, dropping a hand on the younger man's shoulder. Vin nodded at him, looking toward the waving batwing doors as they both heard Nathan say, "Let's get him up to my place."

The next several hours were a confusion, Nathan needing help with trying to save the Judge, JD unsure of what to do and anxious. Buck found himself sitting on the boardwalk, sometimes with JD as he moved between the jail and Nathan's clinic, sometimes one of the curious town's people, wanting to know what was going on – and blaming them for trying to do the right thing, but mostly sitting alone. Vin had ridden out, not to Tascosa, but to see if he could follow the tracks of the men who had escaped. A tracker, Buck knew, and damned good at it.

"This seat taken?"

He glanced up, not too surprised to find Chris standing there, looking at him. He shrugged, some of the irritation still in him, but not as bad as it had been. Seeing the dark stains on Chris' shirt helped some – it wasn't Chris' blood, he knew that, but it could have been.

Reminded him of the damned-fool plan.

"How's the Judge?" Buck asked as Chris settled himself.

"Alive," Chris answered shortly, "but just barely. Figure we ain't leaving today."

Buck nodded, knowing that Chris was trying to apologize. His irritation ratcheted up a notch; as usual, Chris was doing a piss-poor job of it.

"Sent Vin out to see if he could find their trail – even though seems pretty clear that they'll be off to James' place."

Buck sat back, crossing his legs at the ankles, knowing already where this was leading.

"Figure we might have to ride out there and get the James boy back before this is over."

There it was, then. Drawing himself back in, he pushed himself up to standing, turning to look down at Chris. "Y'all have fun, then."

He had the pleasure of seeing rare surprise on Chris' face as he strolled away into the saloon.

Even better was the grim annoyance Chris wore several minutes later when he waltzed back out, Miss MaryAnn on his arm.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*

"Rocks?" Buck laughed out loud, the story more amusing because of Chris' involvement in it. Served him right.

JD grinned back. "I don't think Vin ever quite cottoned on to the idea that we were supposed to make it look like a real funeral – he bitched the entire time about – "

"I did what, JD?"

JD nearly spilled his beer as he leaned forward, startled by the voice behind him.

Buck had watched the younger man approaching, and he laughed aloud again, his amusement drawing a sort of grin from Vin as well as he moved past JD to settle into a chair between the two of them.

"I didn't mean nothing by it," JD sputtered out, scrambling to edge his chair away from Vin's. "I was just telling Buck here about – "

"Best be not telling it so loud," Vin interrupted quickly, but quietly. "It ain't a secret if everybody and his brother knows." He was drinking beer, his mug full and frothy, leaving a little white line across the stubble on his upper lip.

"Y'all leaving in the morning?" Buck asked, changing the subject quickly. No need in having JD feel any more embarrassed than he already was.

Vin looked at him, even as JD jumped in, protesting that they might be needed, that things were getting crazy. Buck looked back, letting his face show what it would.

Vin shrugged. "Reckon that depends on how things stand in the morning. We're here for tonight though."

It was an invitation, as clear of one as Vin could make in the company they were in.

He nodded, acknowledging it. "Where's Chris? He know you're here?"

Vin's eyes flickered, and Buck regretted the little hurt he saw there. But Vin's voice was even as he answered, "He said he'd be over in a while. He's checking in with Mrs. Travis again, gonna see how she's holdin' up."

"She's pretty tore up," JD said loudly, looking around to see if anyone was listening. "Must be a shock for her, losing the Judge that way, and all."

Buck grinned, and despite himself, so did Vin, and they both glanced at the younger man who was still going on about Mary's pretend pain and the Judge's pretend death.

They let JD chatter on for a little while longer, Vin shaking his head while Buck egged him on, but eventually, when Josiah ambled in, looking tired and worn, Buck rose. "I'm gonna leave you boys to hold down the fort," he said easily, ignoring the way Vin's eyebrows arched.

Harder, though, to ignore the question that he actually asked. "You gonna be back in a while?"

He looked down, smiling, even as he said, "Hope not. There's a pretty little lady at the bar who needs some of my attention and I aim to see that she gets it. Night, boys." Josiah was chuckling as Buck eased away from the table, settling in across from Vin and talking, so that Vin couldn't argue.

And it was just as well. He was on Miss Amanda's arm when Chris came through the door, and he pointedly ignored his old friend. Harder though, to ignore the way Vin shook his head, looking away from Buck.

Well, he'd warned him.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*

He slipped out of her room earlier than he wanted – nothing he hated more than leaving a pretty lady asleep, especially when he had his own interests already up and, well, up.

But he hadn't slept well, the memory of Vin's eyes haunting his dreams. And truth be told, he didn't know if they were leaving this morning; if they were, he wanted to at least say good-bye.

Even if he wasn't sure how he felt about Chris right now.

He pushed into his boots, settling his coat on his shoulders and tying off the bandanna, placing it so that it hid the bruising from their love-making; she'd seen the cut Chris had left behind, the cut he'd made in his failed attempt to turn their battle from one about Vin to one about Mary, and in trying to 'kiss it to make it feel better', she'd ended up sucking on it the way she'd sucked later on his cock. He hadn't regretted either action, but he didn't want to show it to the world.

Not yet anyway. Maybe later, he'd make sure Chris saw it.

He was down the stairs, heading for the door, when a soft voice caught him unawares.

"You always this pig-headed, or is this for me?"

Vin was leaning on the wall, chewing on a stalk of hay, rumpled and sporting another day's growth of stubble. His hat was pushed back on his head, a hole evident in the angle of it. His hair was less curly, in need of a good wash, Buck thought, but then, they pretty much all were. He was smelling kinda rank himself and had already decided that today was gonna be a good day for a bath.

Buck smiled at him. "Told you not to take it personally," he said. "Ain't about you, Vin."

"Told you I didn't want to be in the middle of it," Vin countered, pushing out of his lean to stand straight. "You ain't being fair here."

Buck tilted his head, feeling the warmth of annoyance flare in his belly. "Really, Vin? You been there all those years with him, fighting in that damned war with him, standing by him at his wedding, then helping him dig the graves for his wife and boy?"

Vin shifted, but he didn't drop his eyes, holding Buck's gaze and saying softly, "I ain't claiming that – and I ain't claiming to be the one who's getting hurt here. You know that."

Buck let the fire cool a bit, then nodded. "But you don't know him like I do, you ain't put up with – " Words failed him for a minute, too many rushing to fill in the gap. Vin didn't push though, waiting until he found what he wanted to say. "You ain't put up with what I have."

Vin nodded. "Never said I had. But this ain't about me, it's about you two – and you damned well know it. We didn't get up to nothing last night – hell, he don't even have – "

He stopped, for the first time glancing around.

And Buck knew, just as surely as if he were reading his mind.

"Goddammit," he swore softly. "Where'd he sleep?"

Vin's lips twitched in a sort of grin, but he said, "Don't know. Mrs. Travis', I reckon. Last I saw, after you took off with – well, after you took off, he sat fer a while, 'til Nathan came down and he and Josiah and Chris – well, they took off to take care of some business."

Moving the Judge, Buck knew. Moving him into Chris' room to hide him out.

He snorted, the irony cutting deep. "Spent the night with Mrs. Travis, well how about that."

Vin sighed. "Doubt it was like that. Chris – he ain't – hell, you know him. Do you think – "

"No, I don't think," Buck said shortly. "I know, dammit. He probably slept on the floor or some such nonsense – where the hell is he now?"

Vin looked at him, no expression on his face, but his eyes were amused. "He's – in his room."

Buck snorted again. "Y'all leaving?"

Vin shrugged. "Don't know. He seems to have taken a liking to the Judge, wants to do right by him."

"Ain't no big surprise there," Buck muttered. "Two hard-headed bastards like those two, convinced that they're they only ones who know a damned thing."

Vin glanced around, his face grim. "Seems like you know a bit about hard-headed yourself."

Buck snorted. "Learned from the best." He shoved his hands into his front pockets, rocking a little. "You come looking to find me to lecture me, little boy?"

Vin tightened a little more, and Buck felt almost good to see a line of anger in the smooth brow.

But Vin's voice was even, as always, when he said, "Iffen you wanted to put a line between me and him, ya done it. Ain't nothing happening, and nothing gonna happen. I done told ya – "

"I said this before, but I'll say it again. This ain't about you, not really. I know you think so, know you happen to be the one this time." He saw something flicker in Vin's eyes, a sort of surprised pain, but he didn't stop, steam finally needing release. "What's going on here has been a long time coming, and I'm sorry you happen to be the one got caught – but it ain't none of your concern. So you just run on back to him and – "

Vin stepped into him then – not a punch, not a strike, but a sudden, full body press that pushed him back against the closed door of the boarding house. Vin didn't move away, but his voice was flat and clear in Buck's ear, despite their differences in height.

"I don't run to no man," he rasped, low and hard, "seems you fergot that it was you that actually got me into this. But that ain't the point, is it? So let me spell it out fer you: yer the one thing he's got left of his life that he wants. And he wants it bad. But he's about as scared of having it as he is of losing it. What he's thinking about doing right now ain't for this fucking town and it ain't for that fucking old man – it's to throw himself into something that he might not be able to walk out of. And that's 'cause he don't know what to say to you or what he wants." He eased back a little so that he could actually look up into Buck's face as he continued, "You're right, it ain't me. It's you, you son of a bitch, and if he does something stupid because you want more than he can give when he's already giving you more than he's got, I'll be more'n happy to make that bounty on my head the truth instead of the lie it is now."

Even though he knew the threat wasn't empty, it wasn't the part that held him in check when Vin stepped clear, then left in a swirl of buckskin and dust and grass. The part that held him in check was the real threat, the reality of it.

The fact that Vin could see so clearly what Buck had ignored for too many years. The fact that what he himself had seen in Chris taking this trip to Tascosa, the thing that he was most angry with Chris about, was right here and right now. Because of him.

The anger ebbed, but not the frustration or irritation or even guilt.

He hadn't intended to get a bath this early, but that heat might cool him down.

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*

Mandy was a pretty thing, full breasts fitting just perfect in his hands, long legs wrapped around his waist, lush heat closing tight around him in a way just meant to draw the life right out of him.

And she was working it, too, wanting the release as badly as he did, arching under him, drawing him deeper and more intently into her with every thrust, her tongue worrying his in time to their joining and leaving him gasping for air and simple thought.

But despite the power of the want, the pull of the feelings he wanted to lose himself in, Vin's voice ghosted through his mind, riding the sounds of her sighs and cries, his blue eyes coloring the haze of lust and distraction.

When he came, finally, it wasn't with the mind-numbing, memory-taking explosion that he wanted, taking away the uncertainty and fear, but with a flash of sensation that twisted through his head, ending far too soon and leaving in its wake the image of Chris's need of him, of Vin's disappointment in him, those all-seeing gazes empty. The image of Chris' surprise and the hurt in it, Vin's cold anger as the younger man had looked at the bullet hole in his hat and made some comment about James owing him a new one.

The image of Chris staring with a sort of expected disappointment as Buck had twisted away, Mandy over his shoulder, and his own voice angrily using the word 'suicide'.

Goddammit.

He waited until his heart was beating a little less hard, her body relaxing a little more under him, before pushing himself up and pulling out of her, appreciating the way her flesh gave way reluctantly but not with pain.

That, too, made him think of Chris, and of Vin, and he sighed, wiping at the sweat on his brow even as he rolled to one side.

"You all right, Buck?" Mandy's voice was gentle and concerned, a sweet womanly sound that just seemed to add to his annoyance.

"Yeah," he muttered, forcing his eyes open as he smiled at her. "You?"

She smiled at him, her full lips reddened from kissing, her eyes still flaring with little explosions of her own release. "You ain't never disappointed me."

He didn't really think about it – wasn't thinking at all yet, but his hand moved between them, coasting over her soft belly and down into the damp tangle of curls between her legs, two fingers slipping easily between the soft folds to find the little button. She gasped, one hand curling into the sheet under them, the other catching at his arm, but not to stop him.

He kept his touch light, knowing how she liked it, and it wasn't but a few strokes before she was arching again, her muscles quivering with another release. The scent of her sex drifted through the room, a lighter smell and one that he treasured.

But not the one he was wanting at the moment.

She was still breathing hard but her body relaxing back into the bed when he forced himself up and away, looking for his clothes.

"Goddamned idiot," he muttered, pulling on his union suit and his pants.

"Buck?" her voice was raspy now, reminding him of Vin, and he felt a stab of something else. 'Little boy', he'd call him, 'the one this time', he'd said, as if there had been other times, other men.

There hadn't. And to his credit, Vin had never asked. It had been a cheap shot, an attempt to get even for something that, as he himself had said, wasn't Vin's fault.

"Did I do something?" Mandy's hand was warm on his shoulder, her tone insecure.

"No, honey," he said instantly, turning to see her face. "Just got something I gotta take care of – it's weighing on my mind, distracting me from the more important things in life." He grinned at her, leaning down to kiss her on the nose and managing to stand up all at the same time.

She reached for him, catching him around the neck, and he wasn't cavalier enough to avoid the soft kisses she wanted, the reassurance that everything between them was as it should be.

"You come back later?" she asked as she let him go, not helping him find his clothes, but not holding him from it either.

"No man in his right mind would say 'no' to that," he said, buttoning his shirt then reaching for his jacket and bandanna. He tied off the cloth around his neck, then, as he slipped into his boots, he said, "You know the way to James' place?"

*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*&amp;*  
He leaned on the post that supported the roof over the boardwalk, watching Chris walk up and down the street. In the background, he could hear Judge Travis holding court in the saloon, his voice hard and flat, the jury muttering, the James boy trying his damnedest to argue that it was self-defense to shoot an unarmed man. He knew Vin was sitting on the roof above him, and something about that didn't seem right, but it didn't seem too wrong either. Vin had the best eyes and if James himself was gonna cause trouble, Vin would spot it first coming down the road and probably have the best aim to taking out the lead riders and slowing them down.

"Good thing you showed up when you did," JD said, his hands fidgeting with his guns even though they were still in their holsters.

"Heard that already," Buck chuckled, but it felt good. Really good.

From the street, Chris looked up, catching his eye. Nodding.

Trial didn't last long – not much need; the Judge had seen the shooting, as had several others who actually got up the balls to testify. The hanging would be the next morning, giving James the time to find his own forgiveness.

"Oh, here we go," Conklin was the first one out the door, his crab-like sidle jerky as he looked back over his shoulder. "There's gonna be trouble now – James' men will be here any minute, shooting up the town." He glared at Chris, almost tripped over Buck before darting down the boardwalk, continuing to proclaim the demise of the town.

The rest of the crowd in the saloon followed, everyone chattering nervously, excitedly, and Travis calling over them for the sheriff.

"Teams of two," Chris called, stepping up to the porch, "Buck, you and JD get James back to the jail. Vin," he called louder, "stay on watch up there, the rest of us will walk the town."

It was just at nightfall when Vin whistled, the sound shrill in the cooling air. Buck joined Chris on the road, staring up as Vin leaned down to say, "Small group, three riders, James in the center."

"Aim for him," Chris said, and he stood in the center of the street, Buck to his right and Josiah to his left.

The three riders came in slow, then two of them, the ones flanking James, stopped on the outskirts of town, waiting as the old man rode in, slow.

"Hear my nephew was convicted," James called as he drew near. Chris was holding his revolver, but it was aimed down. Buck had his rifle resting in the crook of his arm, his shooting hand on the stock and trigger, and he knew Josiah was positioned the same. Only Vin was aiming and he was doing it well.

"Only fair since he killed Mr. Potter. Little late to be offering a defense if that was what you came to do." Chris smiled, but it wasn't friendly.

"Came to say goodbye," James said, his tone cold. "I am allowed to see him one last time?"

Chris studied him, then nodded. "You alone."

James sneered, but said, "My nephew has been out of my control for too long. I don't see how I can save him this time. But I can promise you, you have started something you might not live to see the end of, Larabee – that is your name, isn't it?"

Buck was amused, and a little awed, as usual, at Chris' balls. "My name don't matter. What matters is that no one man decides for everybody, James, no more. Justice is equal for everyone, no matter how much land they got or how many cows."

James snorted, then spat on the ground beside Chris. "My nephew?"

Chris smiled at him, still not friendly. "Josiah, would you escort Mr. James to the jail?"

Several hours later, they sat on the boardwalk outside the saloon, sharing cold bread and cheese and some salted meat that the townsfolk had provided, a gift for their work settling things with James, for helping Mrs. Potter get justice. The old man was still at the jail, Josiah and Nathan with them at the moment, while the town's undertaker and several carpenters threw together a hanging platform on the other end.

"You okay, Vin?" Buck asked quietly, noticing that Vin was restless, the noise of the hammers seeming to wear more at Vin than the rest of them. For the first time in a while, Buck remembered the worry he'd had for Vin going off to Tascosa. The worry that he wouldn't come back.

Vin shrugged, pushing up from the barrel he was sitting on and moving to lean heavily on the support beam. "Reckon this wasn't quite what I had in mind when I agreed to stay for 30 days," he answered, and Buck saw his head turn, his gaze going toward the construction rising from the street farther down.

"Reckon none of us did," Buck agreed. "Reckon there been a lot of things said and done today that weren't what we had in mind."

Vin turned and looked at him, but it was the gaze of the man sitting beside him that Buck felt most heavily.

And that man whose words, simple as they were, carried the most weight. "That's the damned truth. Maybe past several days."

For a few seconds, the three of them were still, the pull of the strange thing between them even and strong.

"Think we're going to have any trouble tonight?" Chris asked eventually.

Vin shifted, looking away from them and back up the street. "If so, it's gonna come from the other end of town."

"You wanna ride out that way, keep an eye on things? Ain't no use sitting on top of the buildings, not in the dark."

Buck felt that warm stir in his belly, the one that came when Chris' voice sounded the way it did now, his tone gentle, his words sweet. The suggestion was good – but the reason was to let Vin get out of town, away from the reminders of what he stood to lose himself.

"Could do that," Vin agreed after a time. "Iffen you think it won't leave you short here."

Chris snorted. "Won't leave us short – you'll be back ahead of them if you see 'em, and you'll be warning us. Don't go too far away – they might decide to sneak around and we might need you."

Vin's head turned back to look at Chris, and Buck knew that Vin knew what was being offered. "I'll stay close," he said. "I'll be back before dawn – "

"If there's no trouble, there's no need in you being back 'til after it's done. They might try to do something just before dawn, before it happens. You watch, and watch close."

Vin straightened, his hand rising in the darkness to touch the brim of his hat. "Shoot off your Colt twice if you need me. I know the sound of it."

"Watch your back," Chris answered, and he rose, reaching out to catch Vin by the shoulder. "Thanks for staying. We'll get there, I promise."

Vin leaned into the grip, or Buck thought he did; in the deep shadows of the boardwalk, it was more something he sensed than saw. It didn't last long, just a few seconds that could have well been just the two men standing close, then Vin stepped off the boardwalk and away from Chris' touch. He didn't say anything, just walked away, blending quickly into the darkness as he headed for the livery. Chris moved slowly, retaking his seat and stretching out.

It wasn't the first time they had been alone this evening, but this time, there was the tension of the past few days hanging over them, the very stark absence of their accidental other.

They sat in the thick silence, listening to the hammers and the mutters of passing people, the tinny piano from the saloon behind them and the sounds of people drinking and passing the time. Eventually, they heard the sound of a horse trotting and looked up to see Vin riding out, his silhouette familiar now, even in the darkness.

"Haven't touched him," Chris said softly. "Won't."

There had rarely been these kinds of words between them- Buck could count on one hand the number of times they'd ever made a promise to each other, ever felt the need to explain. The need wasn't there, now – Buck hadn't asked, wasn't going to.

The fact that Chris was offering it, actually stating it – if he'd needed proof of what Vin had said earlier, it was right there in the words.

Of course, he'd had proof of Vin's words already today, managing to show up in time to keep Chris from getting his ass shot dead.

To keep him from letting himself get killed.

"You know, I been giving it some thought these last few days, and I mighta been wrong about that," he said, pitching his words as quietly as Chris' had been.

Chris shifted next to him. "You decide that after keeping company with all your lady friends?" There was something in his voice, then, something Buck had rarely heard. Something he didn't want to hear, even though hearing it right now was bittersweet.

For an instant, the anger was there, driving him to taunt, to play on the fear that he himself had been living as of late. But he couldn't cause Chris to feel what he had been feeling – it was too cruel, especially after all the man had been through. 'You want more than he can give when he's already giving you more than he's got' – Vin's words, clear and true.

"Decided that after keeping company with that young buck you like so much," he answered instead. "He's pretty smart for such a young 'un."

For a few seconds, he thought his attempt at humor was going to fall flat. But Chris couldn't hold the anger either. There was a low sound, a chuckle, and Buck smiled himself as Chris answered, "Don't think I'd let him hear you call him that."

"No," Buck agreed, "don't think I will."

They sat for a while longer, but with less tension. Eventually, Chris lit one of his little cigars, the red embers glowing in the darkness. As the smoke drifted through the air, curling around Buck in a pleasant and comfortable way, Chris said, "Thirty days. Surprised you agreed to it."

Buck shrugged. "Figured I needed something to do until you and him got back from Tascosa. Maybe somewhere to be when you didn't." He let that hang for a minute before adding, "Didn't expect you both to sign on, too."

There was a palpable hesitancy before Chris said, "You wait for me?" It sounded so casual, but they both knew far better.

"Always have before," Buck answered. "Guess there ain't no need in stopping now. Not as long as you're serious about coming back."

The red flared to a soft orange, a thread of blue burning in its center. "Thirty days before we can leave."

"Yup."

"Long enough time to get to know someone."

Buck shifted, not certain what to say, so he said nothing.

"Long enough for both of us to get to know someone."

He looked over, caught the glimmer of Chris' eyes in the glow of the cigar. "Both of us?"

"Both of us or none of us."

He settled back in his chair. "You sure about that?" But he was smiling.

"Ain't much I am sure of any more," Chris mused. "But yeah, I'm sure about that."

Buck smiled, at the words as much as the tenderness and the questions in the quiet voice. Chris wasn't a man given to uncertainty, but Buck supposed he'd given him cause of late. They'd both given each other cause. He reached in the darkness, touching his hand to Chris's wrist, waiting while he turned it to give up his cigar. If their hands strayed too long over each other, well, that weren't nothing at all. Nothing compared to what they'd be doing with Vin real soon. "I reckon thirty days is gonna pass real quick," he said softly. "Would feel better about it if you'd think some more on this plan of yours, for heading out to Tascosa."

Chris sighed into the darkness as Buck puffed on the cigar. "Weren't no real plan. Don't want to lose him. Don't want to lose you. Don't know how not to."

"This ain't about choosing," Buck said quietly, blowing a smoke ring into the darkness. "You know that."

"Do now." He heard more than saw Chris' shrug, and held out his hand to offer the cigar back. Chris's fingers, when they reached out, circled his wrist, not even pretending to take it. "It's about . . . this thing."

"Yeah," Buck agreed, reaching with his other hand to take back the cigar. "It is. About you not getting yourself killed because of it."

Chris' fingers tightened for an instant on Buck's wrist, but his words were even as he said, "Judge asked me what I believed in."

Buck waited, knowing he didn't need to ask.

"Got me thinking," Chris said after a while. "I know what I believe in, Buck. Sometimes I just have to stop and remind myself that things are worth having, even if they don't have names."

For the first time in days, Buck felt the knot in his stomach loosen, slowly unwinding. "Maybe that Judge ain't so bad after all," he said agreeably, puffing on the cigar. "In thirty days, you gonna let me ride with you?"

Chris let go of his wrist, and Buck felt the knot pull again. Chris leaned in, though, taking the cigar back as he said, "Don't think I could stop you," he said easily. But as he sat back in his chair, bringing the cigar to his lips, he continued, "I don't think I'd try to. Welcome the company." He puffed, the fire burning brighter, then said, "Reckon, though, that there could be thirty days after that."

Buck let his hand drop to his chair, but extended the short distance between them, so that his fingers brushed against Chris'. "Pard," he breathed, leaning forward until their heads were very close, "right now I'm just lookin' forward to tomorrow night."

Chris turned toward him, then shifted just a little, so that his lips brushed over Buck's nose. Smoke clouded around them as he said, "Reckon so."


End file.
